These made a total of 2,255, according to numbers given me by Thani bin Abdullah, and corroborated by a Baluch in the pay of Sheikh bin Nasib. Of these men 1,500 were armed with guns--flint-lock muskets, German and French double-barrels, some English Enfields, and American Springfields--besides these muskets, they were mostly armed with spears and long knives for the purpose of decapitating, and inflicting vengeful gashes in the dead bodies. Powder and ball were plentiful: some men were served a hundred rounds each, my people received each man sixty rounds. As we filed out of the stronghold of Mfuto, with waving banners denoting the various commanders, with booming horns, and the roar of fifty bass drums, called gomas--with blessings showered on us by the mollahs, and happiest predications from the soothsayers, astrologers, and the diviners of the Koran--who could have foretold that this grand force, before a week passed over its head, would be hurrying into that same stronghold of Mfuto, with each man's heart in his mouth from fear? The date of our leaving Mfuto for battle with Mirambo was the 3rd of August. All my goods were stored in Mfuto, ready for the march to Ujiji, should we be victorious over the African chief, but at least for safety, whatever befel us. Long before we reached Umanda, I was in my hammock in the paroxysms of a fierce attack of intermittent fever, which did not leave me until late that night. At Umanda, six hours from Mfuto, our warriors bedaubed themselves with the medicine which the wise men had manufactured for them--a compound of matama flour mixed with the juices of a herb whose virtues were only known to the Waganga of the Wanyamwezi. At 6 A.M. on the 4th of August we were once more prepared for the road, but before we were marched out of the village, the "manneno," or speech, was delivered by the orator of the Wanyamwezi: "Words! words! words! Listen, sons of Mkasiwa, children of Unyamwezi! the journey is before you, the thieves of the forest are waiting; yes, they are thieves, they cut up your caravans, they steal your ivory, they murder your women. Behold, the Arabs are with you, El Wali of the Arab sultan, and the white man are with you. Go, the son of Mkasiwa is with you; fight; kill, take slaves, take cloth, take cattle, kill, eat, and fill yourselves! Go!" A loud, wild shout followed this bold harangue, the gates of the village were thrown open, and blue, red, and white-robed soldiers were bounding upward like so many gymnasts; firing their guns incessantly, in order to encourage themselves with noise, or to strike terror into the hearts of those who awaited us within the strong enclosure of Zimbizo, Sultan Kolongo's place.